Nosferatu Dark Prince Rising Series
by Glassgow Smile
Summary: The manhattan clan has faced many different foes, but when an excavation in Romania leads to the ressurection of an ancient evil things take an unexpected turn, for who can stand against Count Dracula the king of vampires? Pairings: Demona/Mabeth later on
1. Nightfall

Prologue - Nightfall

Disclaimer: Don't own anything Gargoyles related or anything related to Bram Stoker's Dracula, what I do own is this computer.

Feedback: I must have it I crave it as much as I do blood! *snarls demanding feedback eyes glowing* (lol send it to me at jkuriako at hotmail dot com) however flames (and the flamers who are hateful) will be staked through the heart and decapitated!

Rating/Warning: This story is *NOT* for the younglings, it's about a hard PG-13, modest R or a soft NC-17, and deals with issues ranging from violence, seduction to language if you are not mature/old enough to read this please do not do so, thank you.

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* * *

  
Darkness descends upon the land, to wrap the world in night's black embrace.

___The restless dead stir in their ancient tombs and, _  
_Creatures, born of shadow, rise to quench their savage hungers_  
_Whispers echo from the crypt, beckoning with the promise of dark desire._  
_And those who heed their call are forever lost in the night_ - Journal of Jonathan Harker - 1897

* * *

The cavern was, the red haired woman surmised, a dank and utterly dark place one that held far more history than it should given it's so called past connections. But then it did not really matter she reminded herself while pointedly ignoring the scores of workers whom she'd had to all but cajole and bribe to not only arrive here with her, but to also remove the contents of this huge mausoleum.

Hoards of pottery, plates, and even paintings had been stored down here possibly by some unknown noble not that it concerned Demona, at the moment she had a business to run and frankly good public relations would go a long towards that, plus this little excavation was profitable in one of two ways. Firstly, it got her away from New York and all the nonsense that had been stirred up concerning gargoyles thanks to the ineptness her former mate and her ex clan mates, not to mention the reemergence of the hunters' descendants.

Both of which, had been factors that had resulted, in a valuable operation having been disrupted. Not that it would have been the last, she never gave up a fact she took pride in.

The second way was that it would further secure her financial standing, the money she'd made over the years along with Thailog's accounts had made her very wealthy, but it was her ruthless nature, which gave her the edge she needed to thrive.

This time around luck had been with her, firstly in the form of one Thomas Reinhold formerly of the Borgo Pass mining company (an obscure and surprisingly wealthy group that had alas been harassed for countless years by attorneys to the point that it was by this point in time utterly defunct), and secondly due to the fact that most of her enemies were on a different continent.

It was the second fact that was far more comforting to her, given how Goliath and the rest of them would have gone out of their way claiming that what she was doing was 'grave robbery', as if the people here could actually appreciate the artifacts that had come from this dismal land.

She'd been to Transylvania before and had found it to be a mostly backward country full of peasants, both before and after the fall of the Soviet puppet regime in Romania. But then humans were pretty much all the same as far as she herself was concerned and as she took stock of the large items she smiled a little to herself the thought of having beaten Xanatos to this place a most refreshing one.

It was a small manner of time, time for her to donate much of the pieces found here to the museum in New York where those given would be placed on display while the rest went into her own private collection where they would be appreciated.

A sudden tap and she turned to see the lanky figure of Reinhold watching here with another of those deplorable gazes to which she scowled having the satisfaction of seeing him swallow a little in fear.

"What is it now Mr. Reinhold," She asked with distaste finding herself longing to tear this insignificant little human apart with her talons, disliking that she needed his services even for the mundane task of 'assuring' the sheep that grazed here she was nothing more than a benevolent figure offering them work.

In reality though the gargoyle in human form had a different view of things and was going to enjoy leaving these people alone with their superstitions and the paltry existence they had here leaving when she was finished here.

The dark brown haired man twitched nervously at her with another of those pathetic and decidedly slavish smiles of his, "The workers Ms. Destine have…well they've found a stone sarcophagus that is from what the historian tells me is dated much like the rest of the collection from the eighteen century," Pausing her 'field agent' and she used that term loosely swallowed in nervousness, "I…thought you would like to see it and the rest of the items we've found a moment ago in an antechamber."

Upon hearing that, the CEO of Nightstone Unlimited smiled a more 'kinder' smile then nodded once striding past Reinhold whose very demeanor shifted when she was not even looking.

She didn't notice him grabbing a spider, crushing it and then eating it with relish a wild gaze coming over him for a few seconds as he grabbed a second then a third arachnid devouring them as well before his appearance became normal again.

She also did not see the almost palatable relief that appeared on Reinhold's face nor the look of disgust both reflected at her and his previous action. Swallowing again, the ex 'mining executive' casually followed her…

…The whole exercise for Demona had been a trying one, while the artifacts were of exquisite value and there hadn't been anyone who could have caused her to carry on, she still had to deal with the fool workers and her somewhat deplorable aide.

Earlier today while examining the large dull gray colored casket, she'd gotten her finger cut thanks to that fool Reinhold who had distracted her while she'd been studying one of the crucifixes that had been placed on the top of the coffin, granted there would be no permanent damage but the fact remained that man was *NOT* going to be long for this world once this hoard was moved out of here.

Not only that but most of the workers and the historian who after reading aloud a bizarre inscription in both Romanian and Latin had fled looks of panic on their face despite both her demands and the cajoling of her aide who shook his head apologetically over the superstitious idiots who had run off.

As far as she was concerned the whole endeavor seemed to have started to go as downhill as the rest of this day which had grown miserable two hours after the incident with that blasted trap, firstly a storm had started to rage then came the cries of the wolves both further arousing her ire.

In the end she had decided to retire leaving Reinhold there to watch the find during the night, an assignment the man deserved for his blatant incompetence. Closing her eyes she let out a yawn curling up in her room at a local inn relieved that despite the complete lunatics surrounding her, the thing that had irritated her would fade away when she was in New York once more.

Her mood almost blackened when the transformation overcame her, but that ended as swiftly as it came, and with a sigh she lay back down on the bed deciding that staying in would be a welcome change…

* * *

For Thomas Reinfield, life had been a miserable disappointment since his twelfth birthday as he like his family had found himself overtaken by the curse that had been placed so long ago thanks to an ancestor of his.

Indeed, much of the years since childhood, had found him forced like his relations to eat insects and other small animals in order to quell the desires for life that had been a part of him and his ancestors since days long past.

For over a hundred years his family had been enslaved to this condition, and like his father, and grandfather and the rest of his relations, Thomas hated every moment of it. What was more was the fact that he himself had tried to seek out cure after cure but to no avail, like all of his bloodline he was confined to it and had been since a childhood having grown up in the English foster care system when his parents had been taken away after they had been caught eating live mockingbirds together.

He'd changed his name four years after that and had left doing his best to appear respectable even as he tried to sate that hunger inside of him, searching for an answer that continued to elude him until the day he'd learned about the woman he was currently 'employed' with.

It hadn't taken long to get a vacationing drunken Quarryman to tell him all about her, time if anything had been on his side and he'd made sure to use his alcohol induced 'friend's' information to remove any and all information on the woman, then after faking his past he'd applied for a job with Borgo Pass's mining company.

Luckily enough his family had along with that curse been made the sole 'guardians' as it were, of the vast fortune belonging to the one who had blighted them in retaliation for the betrayal suffered so very long ago.

The very being that had been placed inside this very crypt Thomas mused while eating another beetle as the sun started to go down, the very change from day to night signaled now by the chorus symphony of the wolves as they started baying outside the tomb this time though, it was with a more frenzied pace as if they could feel the very power in this ancient place.

He could understand their agitation, already he himself was feeling a change in the air around him, as the sound of stone being pushed away alerted him, finishing his 'snack' Reinfield got up from his sitting position, and slowly began to help pull the sarcophagus back apprehension growing.

When the lid was moved away he averted his eyes shuddering, his head inclined in a bow as a taller gaunter looking man with a strong aquiline face, dark brown eyes and jet black hair arose from it, his pale body without clothing as he gripped the sides steadying himself for several seconds, pausing in order to inhale deeply as if he was smelling the very air around him.

Thomas immediately knelt or rather, had just about wilted upon seeing two cold orbs gazing at him hungrily and said, "Master…" His cry holding fear and yet reverence at the same time.

* * *

It had been the word 'master' that had stayed his very hand, normally he would have ripped the intruder who had dared to violate his resting area apart with his bare hands but, upon hearing the awe in this one's voice he had found himself merely smiling both before and, then after catching the scent of this mortal.

He knew that smell, it was mingled with that of insects and dark corruption, the vice reminding him of another who had once called him by that title, amongst others so long ago.

A man, who like this boy had once held a wild look in his eyes, a wild and crazed gaze that reminded him…of the solicitor who had fallen before him becoming a man who craved small living things believing that he would have been granted immortality for the services he'd given.

"You are of Reinfield's bloodline, come to serve me have you," It was a logical question as this creature's ancestor had betrayed him long ago earning his eternal condemnation.

"Yes ohh yes master!" Another shudder before a firm sturdy hand met the top of the right shoulder and Thomas looked up into the gaze of his lord who merely smiled faintly.

"You are young," He continued his Romanian accent thickening a little as the hand that caressed his new servant's shoulder moved to the face directing the boy to look at him the way a father touched a son's own, "Far younger than your forebear, I would have your name," Came the command albeit it was tinged with some admiration.

"Th...omas, Thomas Reinfield, I ask for you to undo the curse my family carries Count, please I…I will serve you more faithfully than my great, great grandfather I would die to be free of this…affliction."

The 'man' just paused at that debating his words. It was audacious and not at all like his old attendant's attitude in that there was humility and a loyalty in this child's tone plus an honesty that was surprisingly refreshing compared to the tenor of the one who had betrayed him to his enemies so long ago.

Perhaps, he mused studying this one quietly, perhaps the Reinfield family had suffered long enough because of his curse upon them. In fact it was also possible that the entire family deserved to be rewarded for the actions of this mortal, who had somehow revived him with a small drop of very potent blood.

He would have need of someone with such guile and devotion to watch over the safety of his coffin and to assist him now that he had returned. Especially since this was a world new to him of this he could tell by the years that had been added to the very stale air around them. And this one was different than his forebear a fact that brought much consolation to him.

Giving a single nod of agreement, he removed his hand then pushed upwards and exited the coffin standing now on his own two feet, albeit his balance was somewhat off due to having been ashes for so very long.

"Ohh master let me," Thomas replied handing him a pair of clothes. "I hope this is the right size," He began with nervous apprehension.

"It will do for now my young friend," The Count stated nodding in sanction as he got dressed turning to look around before closing his eyes hands now across his chest the howling of the wind and wolves starting to die down, "I rescind the curse upon all of Reinfield's get. No longer shall they feast on the insects, pets and life force. Unto them I return their reason and doubt."

The relief that came from Thomas was a surprise, and as the Noble finished speaking the incantation a volley of 'thank you master' was heard before he held up a hand then surveyed his surroundings again a red haze filling him as he noticed the inscription on the wall.

"It was…done after your second death my count…they had hidden this place and made sure no one knew, my…my family searched for years trying to find you but…we had no luck…until now," Came the almost panic stricken response though the lad had nothing to fear from him given his actions as a whole, "Please do not be angry with me my lord, I…I will remove them and tidy this place up for you I swear it!"

"I suspected full well that they would have done something like this to me," Turning he looked at the boy then bade him to stand, "And you have no reason to fear me Thomas Reinfield, you are not your long dead predecessor. Your vow of fealty to me is most appreciated. What angers me is that, Abraham van Helsing and his allies dared to defy me, I presume my curse upon them is in effect."

"All save for the one on Van Helsing, he had no family my liege none that were afflicted like the others with madness and plague."

For a moment the Count was silent as he took in those words then he cracked his neck a little. "Tell me Thomas what has happened to my crypt, there were immense items of value here, heirlooms belonging to my family along with several from the campaigns I had against the moors."

"They await on a plane my lord Dracula. It…it was the only way to free you, making others think that this place would be a treasure trove for them. The one whose blood revived you, she…she is immortal and a gargoyle. I had no way of knowing if it would work but I had read and studied brushed up on the lore involving you and…"

"And so you took a chance," The Vampire offered his words holding approval. "That was excellent thinking Thomas very commendable, and what has become of this world since I was assaulted. I presume it has been sometime since Eighteen Ninety-Seven and my subsequent beheading and impalement."

"Indeed my Count, it is so very different than your time yet the same as well. I…well it is now nineteen ninety-seven and the earth has changed greatly. There are numerous things that had not been made back then-"

Dracula held up a hand again to forestall the conversation and chuckled a little, "There is time to tell me of all of man's marvels over nature. At the moment, I require the blood of the living, bring me someone to feed on and while I regain my strength regale me with anything you believe holds merit."

Nodding once Thomas Reinfield left and as he did the undead Transylvanian noble closed his eyes remembering how that sniveling wretch Harker along with the cowboy Morris' (it was hard to tell given Lucy Westenra had had many suitors himself included) had first stabbed him in the heart, and then cut off his head with of all things a pair of knives, the pain he had received from that attack having been most excruciating as had the blank, empty state he had found himself in afterwards.

Obviously there had been no ritual to exorcise him or keep him from returning a fact he wished he could have gloated about to that fool Van Helsing who was an 'expert' in the field of the supernatural or at least claimed to be. What made it laughable was that while the kukri and the bowie knives had done a lot of damage to his body, keeping him from returning by putting these foul holy items around and hiding his crypt had only delayed the inevitable.

All it had taken, had been a single drop of blood, from what he gathered was a gargoyle one, who was also immortal. Doubtless she had tried to move the lid to his coffin without performing the proper steps and had wound up getting cut for her trouble that action producing enough of the red life giving elixir to restore him and all due in large part to Thomas Reinfield's duplicitous and scheming actions.

Such deeds were more than commendable, it was obvious from the words spoken aloud that the Reinfield family had served him as stewards of his fortune and had sought time and time again to free themselves of their affliction by striving to restore him, else why would the boy have come here offering eternal service just for a cure. They were in fact, actions that he found them along with the one who had given them to be worthy of respect.

More importantly though, they were commodities not freely given from one who held contempt for mortals and most immortals at large as most were not worthy of his admiration.

And that action on his servant's part had not been a small one no; the droplet of blood that had soothed his body had also healed his mind at a rate that was next to impossible some would have said.

There was no doubt in the count's mind that that fey magic was somehow mixed with the gargoyle female's (and it was female he could tell quite well) and it had been that impressive combination mixed in with what he suspected were enchantments of the woman's own making that had done in minutes what it would have taken five human bodies to do in at least a single day.

He would have more of that blood later, yes, take and drink deeply while the gargoyle's immortal body shriveled like a grape that had been out in the sun much too long. But that would be something for a later time, right now it was better to regain one's strength and so he stood there his gaze moving around the crypt he had been sealed in and listened to the night and all that moved about from the smallest to the greatest of living things.

For the moment, there was … peace, instead of rage and with another faint smile Vlad Drakul inhaled deeply moving towards the door stopping when he saw two men obviously intoxicated.

Fangs as large as small five inch knives formed and he moved forward taking in the muscular forms of the insects Reinfield had brought back, nodded once and bit down hard into one then the neck of the other albeit, it was done with a pang of longing for female companionship though that could wait, right now he needed to feed and to cultivate minions to do his bidding and that of his human servant's.

They didn't even scream and as he drained the two fools dry giving them a small amount of his blood in turn knowing they would rise soon and as the vampire lord known to most of the world as Count Dracula turned he smiled and bade for Thomas to describe all that had changed when he had forcibly departed the world.

* * *

…Fortunately for Demona the rest of the excavation had gone smoothly, Reinhold had been even more useful than he had been before, having told her of a doctor and scholar who was both a friend of his and had more than a passing interest in history. On his advice she had consented to hiring this Alexander Lucard, who had turned out to be a most charming person…for a human.

Dressed in black clothing from head to toe, he appeared to be more like a corporate rival or a wealthy nobleman than a man whose passion in history rivaled that of any school teacher and yet that was exactly what the professor was, the real bonus though was he was fluent in numerous languages including Romanian, English, Arabic, Spanish, German, and several others.

The only real drawback was he had commitments during the day that were an issue for him, while she would have fired others for it she'd found herself slightly compelled to accept this eccentricity without much in the way of disgust or irritation, especially given how well educated the man was and so very…polite as well.

Currently he had been telling her stories of this place how it was (to her surprise and delight) the crypt of a prominent noble of both Székely and Vlach heritage who had fought against the Ottoman Turks during the course of their predations. Jokingly she had asked if this was where Vlad III had been buried only to get a shrug and a slight amount of ire directed her way almost as if the man knew she thought poorly of the country they were in and it's so called history.

Still, the tomb had for lack of a better word a certain charm as did the history of the place albeit it was nothing compared to the history of gargoyles as a whole but then no mortal's so called accounts were good she had reminded herself while asking about the odd inscription placed above the doorway warning all away from this place lest they release a great evil.

Lucard had openly sneered in disgust at the so called 'sign' that had been given as the result of a superstitious peasant's arrogance 'no doubt caused by a disgust for the nobility' before he had launched into a musing about how pathetic it was how those lower than the nobles were always so quick to blame those in higher stations because of their own failures.

His opinion and point of view were admirable as far as she was concerned, and in the period of a week she had made the decision that he would be very useful to represent public relations for Nightstone when presenting all of the items herein to the world.

Asking if he was interested, she had persuaded the good doctor to come back with her to New York and with some prodding from Reinhold, Professor Lucard had agreed inclining his head in a polite bow, his manner as charming as ever.

The fact that she was using him did not even bother the gargoyle in human form. True he was charming and was she truly human she would have gone after and taken him as her own, but he was human and to her all humans were nothing more than pawns to be discarded once she was finished.

It was a fact, that fool Goliath refused to see she thought bitterly while heading for her private car breathing a sigh of relief over how smoothly this venture was going. Soon she would be home once more though it would take at least a few days for her to depart from this place, arrive in the city of Bistrita and then take a train bound for Cluj-Napoca.

The professor, along with Reinhold meanwhile would head for Bucharest to oversee transportation for the relics, artwork and other items that had been exhumed for the journey back to the sprawling metropolis of New York.

Giving Lucard and Reinhold the task had done two things, one it would further placate the two useful humans, and three she'd have plenty of time to examine the large silver crucifix she had found inside the crypt.

It glittered brilliantly in the light as she examined it taking notice again of the numerous languages featured along the sides, why a warning had been placed in the dialects of the region and reading the words she did not understand; still the warning did not detract from its beauty, far from it. In her eyes it had a sort of gothic charm to it;

_  
__Blight shall befall the land if ever _  
_The sarcophagus is opened or removed._  
_Beware all for this is a place where__  
__Even the blessed Angels and Saints_  
_Fear to walk and tread._  
Odd that the same writing found on the tomb itself would be here as well, not that she put much stock in the superstitions of the humans given she knew real and true magic and had found nothing terrifying about the crypt or the various pieces of human history it had housed in its dark confines. Still despite the idiotic doom and gloom warnings she had decided to keep it as a token of her time there while sending a smaller rosary to her only remaining relative.

_Woe to the one who releases_  
_That which is not of the living and the dead_  
_For all will quake upon his return._

Hopefully, Angela and the fools were not going to ask questions about how the cross had been obtained, although she had a sinking feeling that Goliath and his whore Maza most certainly would investigate given that the detective was if nothing else much like a mosquito buzzing and annoying one constantly while sucking the life out of others in pursuit of her so called morality.

How anyone could stand her was beyond Demona. What was even more infuriating though was the fact that the blasted wretch had managed to usurp her rightful place as Goliath's mate and in the clan.

And just the way Angela looked up to her, was also distasteful she thought with an almost inhuman snarl while clenching a fist ignoring the fingernails that were digging into her flesh.

Someday she hoped to convince Angela of what was truth concerning humans, until that day she knew she would have to tread most carefully especially when one considered that her daughter like the rest of her former clan had been duped into believing that all humans were worthwhile beings.

Granted some of them were useful, but only for a little while. Case in point, Reinhold and Lucard were two that while intelligent and obviously talented in their respective fields would die once their usefulness to her had ended.

Strangely enough though she could not stop thinking about the Doctor. She was not attracted to him thankfully and she was extremely grateful for that, what was disconcerting for her however was how…compelling the man was almost as if he radiated power and charisma in a way that unnerved her more than she cared to admit.

For a moment when he had been introduced she'd thought that she had detected a mixture of earth and of blood though it had faded and she had found herself actually enjoying the conversation she'd had with the Professor and with Reinhold who also appeared to have changed a little, as the man no longer had the scent of insects about him.

As her thoughts returned to the cross she had been given by a fearful noble she caressed it surprised that someone would have given her a cross that like the other was also made of the finest silver.

Unlike the larger one, this one though had the words 'undying' on the right and 'protection' on the left front sides. A gift she hoped that would be well appreciated by her offspring even if Goliath or the detective attempted to object to them.

For a brief second she allowed herself the pleasure of a smile imagining a loving look directed to her from Angela followed by a hug, even though that seemed a trivial thing to wish for. Putting them both aside as a steward entered with a hot tray of food she closed her eyes, bade the servant to leave then stared out the window noticing that the sun was setting. It was a good thing she had this area at least proofed against sound and that the charm she had with her would be able to mask the transformation between human and gargoyle.

A very good thing indeed she thought as pain started to fill her body…

* * *

When Reinfield had resuscitated him with the blood of the immortal gargoyle, Count Dracula had been pleased as well as slightly awed. In life his blood, sweat, courage and intelligence had made him capable of feats deemed impossible and later in death those things had been amplified a thousand fold. Blood he had said on occasion was very important and his strength and skills had made him a foe few had dared to challenge at least before his assassins had killed him.

As in life, he had enjoyed manipulating and destroying those who were in his way only after he had been turned, he'd found himself taking delight in the corruption and seduction of others and had often discarded them without much concern about the wellbeing of those who had been of use to him.

Which was why, his old view of people as pawns was not suitable these days especially when it came to the Reinfield family, Thomas served him most faithfully using his intellect and resourceful nature to assist him, as had the rest of his family save for the fool who had betrayed him.

Whatever else he had at one time thought of mortals there were some worthy of admiration and Thomas Reinfield was an example of that using both aforementioned skills to further assist the one he had sworn loyalty to.

Just as he had done after they had parted ways from the deplorable woman, first by acquiring what he had referred to as a car for them both and then by telling him still more about the world and its very ways.

To think mortals had come up not only with new weapons, but also inventions that could have put even the great Viktor Frankenstein to shame. Now they had a thing called internet, boxes that were much like the giant motion picture screens he'd seen in England during his brief stay there only these were smaller and had not only a multitude of colors, but also a variety of different sounds.

There were also vessels that flew through the air, or could go underwater in comparison to the ships and carriages of the past. To say nothing of the ones that could move over the land at breathtaking speeds, hospitals equipped with cures for many obscure and terrible conditions that had plagued humanity some even sold in local stores these days, things that had been next to impossible during the middle ages and later on, in the eighteen hundreds.

As his aide's hands moved over the wheel of the Mercedes, the ageless vampire lord continued to read going over everything there was to know about this curious mode of transportation that was like a horseless carriage but different in that it had four wheels instead of two, rivaled the coach in that it had a speed that was as fast as any horse from his native homeland, and was equipped with things to protect the occupants from a crash.

What was even more amazing was how much the Reinfield family had done to in his name even after his demise, such as keeping watch over his fortune, investing it wisely in what was known as the 'stock market'.

As it was he was even wealthier than before his encounter with that damnable Van Helsing. Wealthier and far more powerful all because the family of the man he had…corrupted had struggled to do what they could to earn his…forgiveness.

It was a concept that did not sit well with him all that well as in the back of his mind Dracula himself had committed unspeakable horrors first to aid his people and then later to seek revenge against all those who had wronged him.

He had…even used his brides treating them as subjects a thing that made him no better than the most violent of the moors. And because of the way he had desecrated them along with Lucy Westenra they had acted like him in turn, bringing that fool vampire hunter and his lackeys to them.

Now though Abraham van Helsing was dead and gone, and much of the world no longer believed in vampires, a fact that would serve him rather well although this time around he would be far more careful in his choice and instead rely on the tactics he had learned so long ago in order to succeed.

The car rolled to a stop and Thomas turned to face him, watching as the resurrected vampire lord closed the book with well practiced smoothness, "Do you wish for a woman for the evening master?" He asked his tone holding understanding, "Perhaps I could find someone…"

"Not yet my friend," Dracula stated looking at the luxurious hotel for several moments not wanting to sire anyone yet. "The room you mentioned that you had brought for me. It is on the top floor am I correct?"

"Yes Count, I assumed that it would provide you the best view of the city and less prying eyes for when…you take flight."

"Splendid work Thomas. Your loyalty and thoughtfulness are appreciated. When you marry I would have you bring your family to my new dwelling since my old castle is dead and gone. Tell me are there places in America that will be fitting?"

"There are several master, and I have found four mansions and five monasteries all of which can be purchased now if you wish," His servant stated while handing him one of those small portable telephones and as the Count took it he examined it taking in the clear concise numerical sequence then took the folder Reinfield handed to him and began to look through them.

"Impressive," Dracula began with a nod of approval taking time to study the photographs of the places he was going to purchase. "I want them spotless, and what of my gypsies?"

"Now that you have returned master I will contact the chieftain and let him know you walk the earth once more…he is like his forebears bound by oath to serve you."

"A most excellent plan you have set into motion Reinfield," The Vampire Lord began as he pushed one button after another, "I do believe that these properties will be of use. When we arrive there I want work to begin in earnest in creation of secret ways in and out of my new homes. No stone is to be unturned, lastly tell those Romani that still serve me to bring mold and silver dust from the crypt with them."

"Yes master though…would it not be safer to use the powers at your disposal to make a way to prevent you from being…more vulnerable?"

He paused affixing his servant with a look of surprise. Tactically it made a great deal of sense especially considering he himself had been more vulnerable especially after they had consecrated the mould and silver dust used for resting in and a bed would be a nicer feature for him. To say nothing of the fact that a bed (properly defended) could offer better protection and would further add to the duplicitous of his vampiric nature.

The fact that Reinfield's descendant had asked such an intelligent question, only further proved how much Dracula was benefitting from the service of this one and his family.

"Find out what you can Reinfield about that issue and about a protection spell that will protect my body as I sleep." The Count commanded his tone holding a note of trust as well as a touch of seriousness that belied the fact he himself did *NOT* want to be turned to ash a second time and when Thomas gave his assent, he relaxed then in a cordial tone began to speak to the real estate agent his servant had listed as the person to contact.

Even over great distances and unseen by the female mortal on the phone with him, Dracula's power and charisma was at its peak and within minutes he'd had her promise to ensure his home not only against fire, but also flood, earthquake and any damage caused by anything unnatural which was something he found to be a plus.

When he hung up the Count stretched a little before he got out the tip of the wolf headed walking cane he had decided to use meeting the ground with practiced elegance alongside the well tailored black boots he wore over his feet.

Reinfield opened the door to the hotel while a member of the hotel's staff drove the black and silver luxury car around to the nearest parking lot. Though there was only a small sliver of sunlight, Dracula felt his powers start to diminish somewhat even as he moved indoors, a thing that vexed him slightly given he disliked the strange rules nature, or God had confined him, and his kind to.

He hid his discomfort and merely offered polite greetings as he moved careful to avoid the mirror which could give away what he truly was, even as he obtained the key to his room refraining from laughing upon hearing the name for the room having a suspicion that the name was a slight joke on his minion's part.

Clearly Thomas was not only capable, but also had a sense of humor another thing he found himself liking about his mortal servant.

The very idea of a 'master suit' for the master meant a good laugh for now although later on he had half a mind to repay Reinfield back for this little 'gag' (as mortals called it) how though he had yet to decide on. Especially given he knew he needed to begin plans for his slow and methodical conquest of the new world.

There was also the matter of allies especially given that New York was home to more of the gargoyles, and while he was not as concerned as a mortal was (for what fool did he have to worry about now that Van Helsing was gone. After all who would be strong enough to challenge one who traced his lineage back to Attila the Hun), Dracula knew to be wary despite the fact that he was lord of the Dracul an ancient order of vampires he himself had founded after draining both his own sire and the two gargoyle bodyguards that had been with Alastair.

He remembered the horror on his so called maker's face upon the realization that his plan to turn him and use him as a puppet for the bastard Turks had failed, only too late to stop from being drained dry as his childe fed upon him taking his power and then left him out in the sun.

He had faced the winged creature Daedalus the so called inventor who had along with his 'rookery brother' Icarus met the same fate as the others who'd had a hand in the attempt on his people and himself.

It had been glorious to feed on them, and see the very terror they held for him but what had been even more exhilarating was when he managed to glance into his creator's eyes and had reveled enjoying the fear there as he the supposedly docile 'puppet' had rebelled.

Perhaps, it had been a parting gift from God to him, or the souls of his dead family offering him the strength to fight back. Whatever had given him the will to defy the one who had turned him he had done so with relish, putting an end to the eldest of vampires.

Then it had been the Turks' turn and he had torn the entire company to pieces taking pleasure, reveling in their cries as he had slaughtered score after score of them pausing and stopping only when his bloodlust had been completely and utterly sated.

Standing there in the blood with only a sword he had moved to the darkness before the sun could have harmed him then been surprised upon noticing that Alastair had not turned to dust though he was severely weakened.

Cautiously he had stepped out ready to move back into the shadows his surprise growing upon noticing that like the one who had forced him to drink, he too was not affected by the light of the sun, save that he felt tired and as drowsy as when the forces loyal to his traitorous brother and to sultan Mahmed had captured him.

His ex sire had paled as the Count had made his way closer and then had howled in pain when the first cut from the knife that he had taken from the hand of one of the Sultan's personal guards was administered. Vlad had said nothing holding contempt not only for Alastair but also for the Turks, and for Radu who had presented their father's favorite blade (this very knife in fact) to the sultan.

It took the loathsome vermin awhile to finally become dust, but not before Vlad Drăculea had forced his last adversary, the very one who had turned him, into giving up many of his secrets before severing Alastair's head watching with detachment as it and the elder vampire's body crumpled to ash.

Instead of directly attacking his brother Radu he had instead used the dark powers learned from others to curse him with the disease now known as syphilis and then had done the same to the arrogant sultan hunting down many of his descendants feeding on them in secret.

It was about that time that he had encountered his first bride the lovely and beautiful Katarina and had taken her into the night siring her. Unlike what had happened with his former enslaver though he had made a point to let her know what he was, told her what would happen letting her chose a brief fleeting bed ridden diseased existence (as she had been stricken with consumption) or to be granted immortality.

Her choice had been an understandable one, and for two hundred years he and his consort had wreaked havoc throughout Transylvania against the Turks who had continued to try and take his beloved homeland.

His next bride found two hundred and five years after he had sired his Russian bride, had been Elenya a woman of hearty Spanish stock who like the light brown skinned beauty from Alexandrov, had also been afflicted with disease.

Again his offer had been well received and that was something he had no doubt of. Corruption was something he knew only too well and so he had offered it over death and pain to them and finally to Alissa.

The daughter of a successful banker, Alissa's father had been envied and despised by rival businessmen all of whom had schemed to incriminate the poor man for a crime he had not committed, one which had led to the kindly old man's death in prison.

Gerhardt had been her father's name, and he had been a most useful person to do business with. Through him, the Count had gained a castle in Germany as well as much property. More than that, he had been friends with the old mortal whose very kindness reminded him of the rapport and respect given to him by Jonathan Hunyadi after his return to Moldavia.

He had been there when the old German financier's body had been laid to rest, had seen Alissa's tears and (along with Katarina and Elenya) been moved both from remembering the pain of losing his beloved uncle, his first wife, his son and those he had fought beside while his brides had been stirred as they too had lost loved ones. Though in their cases they'd also had a father who had loved them dearly whereas he would rather have left his father to die in a prison cell for the betrayals occurred all in the name of 'appeasement'.

Some would have called him cold for hating and distrusting his father Vlad II, but the man like Radu had betrayed him to the Ottoman Turks and for that he'd never forgiven him even going so far as to take his father's body and burying it in a common grave.

Like Alissa, he too had also been wronged by the nobles and so he had presented the striking blond woman with the same 'devil's bargain' that had been given to his other two brides.

She like Katarina and Elenya had agreed and the four of them had tortured those who had wronged his newest wife, they had even visited their terrors on the families as well making them suffer painfully before they had headed to his home.

Though his reign was much more diminished it was still a powerful one he'd thought remembering how many villages he'd had control of so long ago before Abraham Van Helsing and his lackeys had cut into his throat, causing his body to be nearly destroyed.

In retrospect he *should* have killed Harker before the man had managed to escape, or instructed that his brides do it as it had been stupid to leave him alive. It also had been unwise to simply visit the fool's fiancé after visiting Lucy whom he should have taken away from the crypt she'd woken up into.

It had been moreover imprudent of him to have also not have contingencies in place for if someone had located him at Carfax Abbey, and to have allowed 'Mina' to see and hear all the things around him through the damnable psychic link he'd wound up sharing with her.

Because of his irresponsibility his beloved childer had been annihilated a path he too had nearly been on were it not for the stupidity of the mortals who had forgotten the proper rituals need in order, to dispose of a vampire as old as him.

Fortunately, even though he'd been turned to ash and placed in his coffin that had not stopped his return. And now, now he was walking amidst the teeming masses once more albeit this time he was alone save for Thomas Reinfield his servant to whom he was entrusting his very existence.

The clothes he wore were of course tailored to the modern area, and were in point of fact, a custom-made suit (Armani his servant had told him) that not only fit but also had been designed expressly for him by a suit-maker who had been most giving not only in the area of garments but blood as well.

He did not however kill the mortal nor had he turned him as both would have caused suspicion a thing he wished to avoid. Alas this way was more problematic however chiefly because he'd needed more of the life giving liquid to remain strong.

His subordinate had the perfect solution at least when they were in transit namely a place known as a hospital or rather the area inside said institution called a 'Blood Bank', where vast quantities of the warm and rich fluid that circulated inside the bodies of those who were bound to a finite sense of time unlike one such as he was kept for medical emergencies.

It was amusingly easy to obtain some, and out of curiosity he had read up on transfusions as they were called and wondered just how much of a part Van Helsing's stupidity in the subject had led to Lucy's fading health. Granted he had taken much of her blood, but just how much of a factor had there been in what the so called doctor had done to 'save' the woman's life.

That was indeed the question, and one he had found himself thinking on. According to the information now, there were so many different types of blood out there; mixing them was bound to cause problems, unless one happened to have a universal form.

Sadly every time he thought about it, his mind and heart came back to Katrina, Elenya, Alissa, and finally to Lucy. His four beautiful brides, they would have been expressions of himself, a true family only…he had failed them and now he was alone for the moment save for the two minions he had created and Thomas, while that of course would change once he had set foot in New York it was still not the same thing especially when he had the heart of a romantic.

When he arrived there though, it would be vastly different as he would seek out women to become his new brides, all of them would be a part of him, one to be his strength, another to be his heart, and another to be his mind.

But that would have to wait until he was quite comfortable in the sprawling metropolis and able to ensure no one would suspect the 'newcomer' of anything 'diabolical'. With a slight 'yawn' he closed his eyes, took off the bowler hat that had come with the suit, and said nothing while fingers brushed against the silk for several seconds enjoying the feel of the exquisite fibers used in the making of his current ensemble.

What made it even more inspiring was that the fine fiber was a much welcome change to his earlier garments of so long ago, while still befitting one such as him. As he removed the clothing he had been wearing the count folded them with care and precision before making his way towards another thing that mortals had invented. The live in shower and slowly he locked the door behind him having left a note for his servant to fetch him fresh clothing that he might be attired in later.

Closing the door he slowly turned the facet knobs on and paused feeling cold then warm water and moved inside it savoring the feeling of the stream as well as the steam slowly washing his body from head to toe getting lost in the sensations.

Soon he would have brides to spend time in the water with him, women who would do anything just to please him, no matter how depraved it might have seen to them in their mortal lives, who would give themselves to him without question and who would fight for him serving both as a way to facilitate heirs, but also for companionship.

Yes, he would find three new brides, savor their supple flesh and relish in their wickedness just as they would do the same concerning his own…

* * *

To be continued in 'Chapter One - Comes The Dawn'...


	2. Comes The Dawn

Chapter One – Comes The Dawn

Disclaimer: Don't own anything Gargoyles related or anything related to Bram Stoker's Dracula, what I do own is this computer.

Feedback: I must have it I crave it as much as I do blood! *snarls demanding feedback eyes glowing* (lol send it to me at jkuriako at hotmail dot com) however flames (and those flamers who are hateful) will be staked through the heart and decapitated!

Rating/Warning: Again, this story is *NOT* for the young or the faint of heart. It's about a titanium PG-13, Hard R or a strong NC-17, and deals with issues ranging from violence, seduction to language if you are not mature/old enough to read this, or would be offended then please do not do so, thank you.

Thanks/Dedication: To The Lovely Jaded One both she and Lady Laran were both of great help to me, and I am very grateful for their help, and their encouragement. Especially when I was sick *hugs them both* thank you again ladies :)

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* * *

  
The strength of the vampire is, that people will not believe in him

– Garret Fort

* * *

Fundraisers had never been Dracula's passion in live and in 'unlife', charity was good he felt but only when it truly came from the heart. Most of the fools here, like the ones long dead, were only here to assuage some pathetic misplaced sense of guilt. A thing that was anathema to him, with good reason, feeling guilty over life never got a person really anywhere at least not if that guilt, was combined with misery and it's recipients were stupid enough to moan over every little thing.

The very idea that the earth would be doomed because of the mortals (who despite all their so called technologies were just that mortals) and the things they did to better their lives, was beyond ludicrous especially to one who had seen firsthand how brutal life could be back during the time known as the 'dark ages'.

When he had been alive, all that had mattered to him was protecting his homeland from the moor invaders who had swept in and were actively forcibly converting others to their language at point of a sword, to say nothing of the women who were also stoned to death for refusing to obey.

Despite the marvels the humans had made, they remained the same as ever intellectually clinging to one belief over another as if that could save them from death or from others hating them.

He had no such illusions, Dracula had been hated and reviled when he'd been alive and he was in some parts looked at as barbaric by fools who had never faced people who would cut off a person's head or stone them to death just because their god told them to do so, really it was pathetic how mortals with too much time on their hands day dreamed and tried to find some way to matter when in the overall scheme of things.

They were nothing but insects, small gnats who could not understand that they were tiny compared to the raw infinite power of nature as well as that of the supernatural world. Yes, tiny and inferior to one such as him, a being who held the power to command the storm, as well as various animals, and the dead themselves. Granted he was not invincible, but humans were for the most part nothing more than food to him, with most being unworthy of life and its spoils.

Such as the woman who had invited both him and Reinfield to her 'gala', though in her case her reasons for charity was to hide what she truly was, a loathsome, vile and detestable woman whose bitterness had poisoned her soul to the point she had become the very thing she'd sworn to fight against.

He found her to be a fool of the highest order, revenge had its place, but blaming others constantly for your own shortcomings was something he himself was beyond. Those who had murdered his father were dead (killed by his own hand), as were those who had invaded his country, and had denied him his place in England, and murdered him and his brides.

His countrymen at the least (and this filled him with emotion) were more respectful of what he'd done on their behalf, they called him a hero and while he'd never felt like one, the vampire lord supposed he fit the definition, though all that had mattered in life to Vlad Drakula was protecting them as any true leader should do.

And unlike many politicians and rulers, he recognized that freedom was a thing that all deserved. It was without a doubt in his mind the most precious right the mortals had, and had been bought and paid for in the blood of many other mortals. A fact that was often overlooked or paid lip service to by most politicians these days, and was one of the few things that honestly stirred his blood and caused his heart to beat furiously on occasion while reading up on the modern world.

As the shrew (and that was what the gargoyle in human form was) continued to speak, he could not help but take note of how much she resembled lady Macbeth in demeanor, and quite frankly Dracula detested her all the more even though he kept up the appearance of being an 'eccentric'. Throwing her off the trail, like the fox did to its pursuers was the best course of action…still he found himself wanting to drain the woman dry and impale her as well as the fools she 'mingled' with.

Later, when he had a chance he would find a way to add to the woman's torment by chaining her and draining her dry over and over again watching as she 'died' day in and out while he and those he intended to turn and lay claim to, fed upon her blood, but that was going to be later. Right now what mattered was not giving into the impatience of youth and killing everyone in the room.

He had always hated social functions, since he was a boy Dracula had preferred a battle and the clarity involved of fighting alongside ones comrades against overwhelming odds was something that held a candor all its own. True he was exceedingly good at pretending to enjoy listening to imbeciles' speak, but he did not above all else like it and were he given a chance he would have torn them apart, but instead he merely smiled politely lecturing about Romania and customs that many (no doubt), found to be either quaint, superstitious or 'barbaric'.

One of the sheep had asked about him and his 'acts of cruelty' to which he had thoroughly enjoyed castrating the idiot verbally asking him, if it had been better for an invading army that had no problem beheading men, women and children who would not convert to their version of Islam, to overrun the country and when the man had been stupid enough to continue, he'd asked him point blank if he'd have liked it if that had happened to him and to his family.

It had been refreshing to see the anger coming from the mortal, and for a moment he had hoped a fight would have broken out, but Reinfield (timely as ever) had intervened and he had looked at the fool then informed him how stoning people especially women who did not wear the required dress, or did anything that the husband did not like, had also been common practice and was still that way today a thing that had also further galled the other man.

The gargoyle had been watching with interest as well, though he doubted it was based on approval of him, no she was merely like a shark seeking out the weaker fish in order to tear apart for her own benefit, fortunately though that had suited him well as she had walked over calmly and then verbally (at the very least) sided with him, while politely castigating the fool who had left in outrage due to being embarrassed in front of his 'peers'.

As the night dragged 'on' he had been politely asked to continue his work, a thing he had agreed to both him and Thomas leaving the event with him making a mental note to find the one who had dared besmirch his honor, and then kill him most painfully first however, was the need for food and to find a mate.

Fortunately an edition of the New York Times, had given him a rather good starting point, or rather a front page article had done so. At his behest, Reinfield had contacted Janos one of the Romany Gypsy family members overseeing the construction of one of the many homes he had procured for himself, and had dispatched the boy to learn everything he could (quietly) about the various gangs warring for control his focus being one Veronika Alexandrov.

To his surprise, Dracula had learned that not only did the woman share the same last name as that charming village in Russia, but she had also grown up there with her family, and attended the best of European finishing schools later when it had been possible to do so, after the fall of the former Soviet Union.

And all thanks to the influence of her father, a man who had once been a colonel in the KGB before becoming a powerful figure in the Russian underworld, establishing the Alexandrov organization as one of the top groups competing for control of the Russian mob.

Normally he would have found criminals to be a thing to be eradicated, but what had stood out about Yuri Alexandrov and his family, was that the mortal despite his shady occupation, had also been a man who loved his family and cared greatly for the wellbeing of children, offering money to countless orphanages and charities the world over.

And he had moreover been a person who was ruthless and as cold as ice itself.

Traits his daughter, apparently shared. From what Janos and Thomas had uncovered, Veronika was every bit as fearless, fiery, passionate and cunning as her father had been before his demise, in what Dracula had learned had been a massacre obviously designed to kill off the entire family. Fortunately, the assassins had bungled in the attempt and the beautiful woman whose picture he was now looking at had survived.

Survived and was evidently prospering despite of the so called actions of the 'authorities' a thing that was cause for interest as any woman who could hold her own in such a cutthroat world, merited further study.

Not to mention, anyone who had a brain was also very exceptional and it made him wonder briefly if this was a sign that things were going to go well for him here, in this city.

With Van Helsing dead, and the only real threat occupied with the harpy's former clan mates, to say nothing of the woman and her pathetic concerns as well, it would be easily enough for one such as he to continue 'setting up shop' here in these new lands.

Yes, with his enemies dead and gone, there would be none who could truly stand in his way, as the female would learn should she or her former allies dare to challenge one such as him…

* * *

At first glance Demona had merely frowned irritated with the commotion occurring but instead of siding with the imbecile who had brought the argument on himself, she'd found herself agreeing with Lucard's words. Normally that did not happen however she'd found herself liking him, granted he was human and beneath her, yet there was an air of mystery about him and a pragmatic world view that was not often seen these days.

Regardless, she found most of the fools who socialized with her to be 'useful idiots' as Lenin would have said, only good for three things, their money, their time and the publicity it would bring to her company, and publicity was a thing she definitely would need especially to continue taking control of all of Thailog's parts of the company.

Even Lucard and Reinhold were means to that end, granted they were intelligent and on one level handsome, however they were still human. And humans if anything; were what was, truly wrong with the planet. They had no real appreciation for it or for anyone but themselves and she unlike Goliath and the other fools knew full well that they deserved nothing but contempt, and ultimately death.

The humans had betrayed her kind, and it only seemed fitting she use their own greed, avarice and bigotry against them. At least that had been what she'd thought at first before finding that power and ambition were not only tools she could utilize for the greater good.

Demona as it turned out had found herself liking both, as Dominique Destine, and in her true form people listened to her (or rather most did), the fruits of her labors would eventually ripen, all it would take was a matter of time before she would finally be able to rid the earth of the rats that infested it.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now, she had more pressing concerns like stopping the argument between the overweight slob claiming to be a film director and the man who had proven to be a valuable asset for her company, and for the museum she was currently doing business with.

Although Reinhold had taken the situation in hand, she felt it needed a bit of a woman's touch and had made her way, moving effortlessly through the crowd she smiled politely and began to explain how the good doctor had a right to be passionate given the country he was from had faced a great deal more than a few actors, accountants and corporations.

The resulting smattering of laughter had been most welcome and her smile had turned cold and hard as she had said it would not be a good idea to try and make a movie about her as she'd sue his company for all it was worth, tie up the courts for years with countless legal battles and laugh as he wound up penniless.

In response the slovenly so called movie writer had turned, stalking out and Lucard had politely thanked her, his tone holding awe in it which only made the feeling of power something she savored once more.

The doctor was a small man, of simple ideas and had asked her if it would be alright for him to continue working to which she had nodded once dismissing him quietly before turning to address the crowd her gaze coming to rest on the forms of David Xanatos and his former mercenary of a wife 'Fox'.

She was, for a moment surprised that they were there then filed that say for later suspecting that sooner or later Goliath would be showing up. Fortunately for her however, the spell she'd cast earlier this day kept her in human form until tomorrow night though the pain would be double. Still, it had been worth it to continue building up her image and reputation.

Not to mention, her using said enchantment would also provide her with more of an 'alibi' should anyone ever put 'two and two' together and figure out that she only took human form during the day.

The only true problem, was that she'd be more vulnerable to attack if the hunters or Macbeth or Thailog came calling, still she had exceptional security and was not completely defenseless thanks to her mastery of the dark arts.

A thousand years and she had learned much in that time period, a thousand years studying the black arts and their subsequent effects, watching as others had suffered due to her talents as a sorceress, seeing them brought low as their misery grew.

On occasion, she had considered using her talents against that bitch Maza, but had refrained out of her desire to not further alienate her daughter even though it would have been so easy to conjure up all sorts of things that would make the cop slut's life as well as Goliath's a living hell.

A part of her, had pointed out that Angela despite her naivety, would have found out…and hated her even more she reminded herself and that was something she did not want now or ever.

She could have though, placing a hex or a curse was not all that hard and she would have relished seeing the cop slut's face become one filled with boils, blisters and other deformities but instead she'd done nothing and simply left.

In all honesty, her time away from New York, Goliath and most of the clan was time well spent, she was calmer than before and that meant she could think much more clearly about her next move…

* * *

…For a moment Dracula had debated killing the fool who had dared to insult him, as well as the fervor and conviction he had held for his people but only for a moment. Instead he had chosen to continue with his previous decision having felt that time was of the essence for him, a feeling that was surprising to him. Still as one who was slightly clairvoyant, he knew better than to question his feelings completely.

Taking to the air had been easy enough, though he would have rather shifted to the form of a wolf, a bat was far less conspicuous and as he fluttered high up he watched the stars and the sky even as he marveled at the numerous towers of industry, houses and things the humans had built. Clearly this Manhattan and more importantly the city of New York of which it was a part of, was a testament to the achievements of science and ingenuity.

It was a shame that mortals took their intelligence for granted and squandered it, but then it had always been that way to him. They could be selfish, arrogant, and ambitious to the point of betrayal things that had been extremely visible in the boyars of his homeland and later the communists and other rulers who had taken charge citing that they alone knew what was best, much the way a 'nanny' claimed to do the same a thing that had always grated on him even after he had become sterile due to his 'rebirth'.

In that regard he could understand the harpy's attitude, though she missed the true point. Anyone could fall prey to the 'darker' impulses, and while he himself had encouraged it and could have been considered 'elitist' the simple truth was that Dracula himself was not.

All that had mattered before his turning had been his people, and later after he had become a vampire his people had mattered to some degree though none of them were of the priority that his brides had been in. Yes he fed on them and many of them were little more than cattle to him, and yes he had continued torture others terrorizing them, but that was because to vampires, humans were food mostly or something to rule over at least that had been the way he had thought before Reinfield had brought him back.

There were many who were different, worthy of not only respect but also mercy (a thing he was capable of), and there were also some that- like the woman he was 'stalking'- were deserving of becoming a vampire.

She had from what he could tell the same spirit that his first bride had so long ago and for a moment he wondered if fortune, or perhaps God himself, had smiled upon him instead of making things fester for him.

It was an odd thought given he was for all intents and purposes damned for all eternity, cursed (though he considered it a blessing) to walk the earth feeding on the mortals and one he had reflected on many occasions, and like all the others he had no answer as to why.

Nor at the moment did he care, his thoughts focusing primarily on the dark brown headed young woman who was flanked by the two larger and obviously stronger men each of whom, were like her armed.

What intrigued Dracula the most however wasn't the concealed semi automatic machine pistols that were hidden within easy reach of the woman's cousins, it was the fact that Veronika Alexandrov was…like him a warrior much, like his first bride had been.

It was extraordinary especially when one took into account that both Veronika and Katrina had been born in that quant village, and at the same time it was also somewhat unnerving for such a coincidence to have taken place.

Still it could have just been some quirk of fate that he'd find someone who came from the same place his first bride had been from. After all he'd been a firm believer in making his own destiny.

To say nothing of the fact that he highly doubted heaven had a place for him, given the things he had done both before he had been turned and afterwards.

No, heaven wouldn't want something like him he reminded quietly with a touch of bitter anger as he took in once more with that same unsettling feeling that somehow this was *no* coincidence, and that the woman below was connected in some way to his first bride.

For a moment he considered leaving, but instead Dracula flew down closer catching glimpses of the conversation below between his intended and her two twin cousins, the resemblance between Katarina and Veronika even more striking.

Especially when he heard the way she spoke, with a tone of command and a bearing that was an almost exact replica of his late Katrina. A small faint smile on his 'bat' like face as he hung there listening in…

* * *

…Veronika had never been one to mince words when the need for subtlety wasn't necessary, 'tap dancing' with the elite was something she like her late father had found to be as distasteful and irritating as the so called authorities who had been doing what they could, to impede the continued expansion and search for the ones who had massacred her family.

Granted, her methods were not within the so called law, but that did not bother her. The law had failed her; it had not done much if anything to bring the ones who had butchered her loved ones to 'justice' instead letting the 'little fish' go, while instead preferring to kiss the ass of whatever politician was in power.

Far better-her father had once said-to take matters into one's own hands as he himself had done than to sit and wait for someone else to do it for you. Smuggling weapons, drugs, stolen artifacts, and the other things she had ordered and participated in were all means to an end. Building an organization and reputation here in New York was (while somewhat easier than back home in Moscow), was time consuming.

And it did not help when some fool bitch with a badge kept harassing her with help from not only her partner but also the blessing of the so called New York City Police Department. What made it even more frustrating though was the fact that both the woman and her male partner kept going out of their way time and again to have her under surveillance, while day in and day out repeatedly badger those who worked for her, in the hopes that she would 'slip' up.

Which was why, she had been very pleased to file that restraining order and to also threaten to sue said Department if it continued her pleasure having grown when the judge had granted her both things, a testament to the skill of her attorney and to the amount of leverage she had on the one who had presided over her 'case'.

Even though she'd won, Veronika knew without a doubt that it was not over. The battle lines as it were had been drawn, and the detective was *NOT* going to let her walk away especially after having 'perverted' the justice system and that was the only part that had soured the surviving Alexandrov's victory over the fool cop who had no problem trespassing where she herself did not belong.

It was because of the harassment and the self righteous arrogance as well that had made 'Nika' debate the pros and cons of ordering the death of this Elisa Maza, possibly having her cousins Sergei and Nikolai personally carry out the deaths of both Maza and her partner Bluestone, much as she'd done back in the old country.

The problem was that while she would have gladly ripped out the shloocha's heart and force fed it to her, she was *NOT* stupid in the least, especially when it came to business. As in Moscow, Veronika had sought out the advice of an associate of her father's, a move that had paid off as Tomas Brod had not only provided her with valuable information on the detective, but also…on the gargoyles she kept company with.

Not knowing that Maza was connected to the creatures 'protecting' the citizens from those that preyed on them before she had proceeded would have proven costly, hence why she hadn't made a move to have someone blow the cunt's head off, instead she had continued going about normal business albeit advising those who worked for her, to be cautious and to dump everything if a problem arose.

Having a backup plan was always a good idea she reminded herself quietly while standing there waiting for the new shipment of stolen electronics parts to arrive. Tactically one never left an opening in a wall for others to enter she mused once more drawing on the lessons her father and paternal grandfather as well as her mother, had taught to her concerning life and business.

Yes, the instruction she had received from her family, especially her father had allowed her to succeed in a world that was far more ruthless than most other professions save for politics and espionage.

The eldest daughter of the Alexandrov family, Veronika like her siblings had never been happier when they had spent time with their father Yuri Alexandrov and their mother Natalie.

A family man, her father during the final years of the old Soviet Union had pretended to be a loyal 'party man' and KGB agent who had hunted down those who had been declared enemies of the state.

But in his heart, her father had despised (literally despised) the soviet state for doing everything from punishing the religious, banning 'religious' holidays such as Christmas entirely, to taking the free will from the people they supposedly governed in the 'best interests' of. In her father's heart and soul he had subtly influenced the corrupted system helping to hide those who were hunted and to get them out of the country altogether.

It had never been for praise, or for money. Her father had been a devout catholic in secret and his resentment of the totalitarian regime had been carefully masked even when…her grandfather had passed away and he had said in private to his children how they had the right to mourn him properly, a right the state had tried to rob them of.

He'd never sought recognition for his actions, no, her father Yuri had felt that helping others survive and thrive was true reward for him. Even when he had taken charge of one of the largest criminal groups controlling Moscow he'd felt that way and though she was loathe to admit it, Veronika was *NOT* even half the person her father had been.

Sometimes she could not even stand to look at herself in the mirror and wondered if she was damned for having taken the path she was on, before she reminded herself of how she had come home a week before Christmas…to find her family…chopped into pieces as if they were nothing more than food for the animals.

Even though the Soviet Union had crumbled, and though her father had been protected from prosecution or persecution for defying it in secret as he had, there had been many former KGB officers, now members of the current government, who had relished the opportunity to slow down the investigation to the pace of a snail, all on the principle that they hated him for being a 'traitor', not to mention, some of them even having gone so far as to willingly act alongside those responsible.

On top of that, she'd found herself struggling to maintain control of her father's 'empire', forced to use methods that were just as harsh some would have said as those of the old soviet union, in order to keep those people who were not truly loyal to the Alexandrov family at bay.

Fortunately she'd been able to handle it quite well thanks to her cousins Sergei and Nikolai who along with her father's remaining 'lieutenant' Demitri Sastovitch, had helped her keep control and exact on her order the first act of vengeance.

Killing some of her father's former colleagues (those who had also had a hand in the massacre), had not brought back her family, nor had she learned who had orchestrated the slayings and so she had pressed on, her 'obsession' with finding out who had been responsible a thing that her lawyer and uncle Mikhail found 'worrisome'.

Like her cousins Sergei and Nikolai, her uncle had been the only other person to survive due to his having taken a vacation with the current woman he had been with. Though Mikhail Sergatov, made a somewhat lousy uncle at times, he was if nothing else the best lawyer she'd ever met and someone she trusted more than anything else.

As she continued standing there in the so called cold climate of New York she couldn't help but marvel at the efficiency of those who worked for her. Truly she had been blessed with exceptional employees, all of whom were loyal and would die for her, not that she'd ask them to do so, as she was as steadfast to them as they were to her.

As box after box was put inside the numerous trucks she found herself amused with how easy it had been to pay off the port authority and slip the items in question into the country. Clearly despite the advances this country had made concerning freedom, it like any others was falling into a state of disrepair thanks in large part to the massive bureaucracy that existed.

Normally she would have been disgusted (and to some extent she was), but Veronika if anything else was also a practical woman and had made the determination it was better to profit instead of being a 'crusader' in that she was different than those who would have taken exception to a massive government whether a city's or a nation's.

Some would have called her selfish, but she found it best to be pragmatic. She doubted she'd be doing this forever, much like her father she would retire and pass the business she'd inherited onto her own children, but that was neither here nor there, neither was her shot at revenge. Right now all that mattered was the selling of illegal 'knockoff' electronics to those who were either naïve enough to 'trust' her, or to those who were also paid by her lieutenants.

"We are almost ready to go," Demitri replied his dark brown hair and equally brown eyes gleaming as the former Spetsnaz demolitions expert walked towards her, "Fifty five thousand in merchandise as we expected."

"Spashiba Demitri," Veronika stated after a moment smiling a thin smile, "Once it is done tell the merchants to be ready for their consignments and then we will be done for the day."

Nodding once the short brown haired man nodded turning to head back when the first bark of gunfire was heard both of them already reacting as Sergei rushed in followed quickly by Nikolai.

"The creatures are here," Sergei said with a growl, "Gregory's going to try and delay them cousin but we need to get you out of here now!"

"She won't get very far," A rumbling voice said as a large blue skinned male looked at them from behind, "Besides while we may not be legal, we can make a citizen's arrest."

She held up a hand forestalling her cousins and Demitri from acting and instead cocked her head to one side, "You are the one…they call 'Goliath' da," Veronika asked with a somewhat amused tone, "Which one of you set this up, that cunt Maza or you her lackey?"

A growl and Goliath's eyes flashed white as snow and he made a step towards her only for her to smile coldly as her cousins stepped in front of her ready to defend her honor.

Instead Veronika Alexandrov held up a hand as if to placate the two former Spetsnaz commandos, "There is nothing to worry about. They do not happen to be how you say 'deputized agents of the law', therefore what they do is illegal is it not vigilante?" She asked purring a little, "Go ahead and throw my people and me around Goliath, I can always swear out complaint against you and city, as matter of fact…perhaps I will demand that shloocha's badge for not stopping it…"

At that the dark blue skinned Gargoyle growled throwing a punch only the young woman laughed as her cousins blocked then shoved him backwards, "You know I am right Goliath," Yuri Alexandrov's daughter said only her 'purr' turned seductive, "Of course it is a shame you are tied to her morally, or is there more to it than just that?"

He was about to respond when the first siren was heard and the woman smirked at him, "You had best go before they lock you up like lab rat," She jeered only for the upstart to smirk a little, "What pray tell do you find funny?" She asked noticing a smaller member emerge.

"Elisa's got everything all ooon recording, and of course there's copies of your security cameras to," The runt said with a grin one matched by the others.

At that, Veronika's expression turned ugly, brown eyes holding fire in them. "Then there is only one option," She said her voice as cold as ice itself the mask of confidence being replaced by hate and unbridled audacity, "I do hope you will savor what little remains of your life, Goliath."

* * *

…_She was fearless, utterly and completely fearless_, Dracula mused with admiration. Seeing her stare down the largest of the gargoyles, the one she had referred to as 'Goliath' had not only been remarkable it had cemented his decision. Veronika Alexandrov was going to be his first bride; he could already tell that she had the heart of the warrior.

Contrary to what that fool mortal Stoker had written, the Vampire Lord had standards when it came to turning people, one had to after all. Creating a childe took time and effort; often it involved giving half of one's own blood to not only speed the transition from human to a creature born in undeath, but to also increase the humanity and loyalty as well.

In that, Alastair had been mostly correct. What he had not taken into account was that the loyalty included also meant to one's homeland, as well as the family and friends one had in life. And it had been a lesson Vlad Drakul III had taken into account long ago, turning someone who was not willing could often cause no end of strife, having someone who hated the one who had sired them not only asked for trouble, it in many cases did indeed lead to rebellion.

Which was why he had always sought out those who were willing, it was not only safer it was also more pragmatic and he if anything had always been a pragmatic person to the point that some might have considered him cold.

Unlike the fool who had portrayed him as a monster, he was not without a heart, he felt strong emotion, and prided himself as being true to both his Székely and Vlach heritage. More to the point, he valued strength as much as he valued passion, loyalty, honor and intelligence, having always found them worth more than all the money in the world.

This was especially true, if he was to turn and mate with another. Creating a childe was one thing, but mating was totally different. Claiming and mating meant tying one's life force to the person he or she desired, and provided not only a lopsided psychic link, but also left both able to feel the pain of the other and if one mate was killed then the other would feel…lost.

He had felt that way when his brides had been killed, in that regard Harker and the other mortal had done him a 'favor'. When Van Helsing had murdered Katrina, Elenya and Alissa, the resulting pain had been almost excruciating and in the end he had felt almost completely numb.

Even now Dracula would continue to mourn them, they like Sorina, Ilona were losses for a man who had been blessed with a family both in life and then later in undeath only to lose those closest to him, first to the Turks, second to Alastair's manipulations, and then finally to a fool mortal who believed it necessary to interfere when he had attempted to woo Mina.

Every loss had taken its toll on him, and though his descendants had married into the Hungarian nobility, he had never once made an attempt to do more than lightly check up on his human descendants. Family was important to him, and this time he would have plans in place should anything go wrong in order to protect those he called his.

Turning from his train of thought, he watched as the woman and her associates were arrested, and arched an eyebrow as another woman this one with bronze skin and black hair looked at his intended with a bit of a smug look of superiority to which Veronika (and this amused him even more) all but snarled her eyes radiating anger while vowing vengeance.

Unfortunately there was not much else he could do at the moment, still he kept watching taking in every detail his exceptional hearing picking up on the fact that the woman was going to be taken downtown.

As they read her, her rights she looked calm composing herself then muttered in Russian what she wanted to do to the 'cop slut' as she referred to her, not to mention her entire family, and cast interesting aspersions on both the detective's family background and on her sleeping habits.

Needless to say her bold nature continued to impress him and as he took flight following them, he found himself going over the comment and this clan of gargoyles that were residing here.

Doubtless, they could prove a problem to his plans, from what he knew most gargoyles were protective of their home and others. Things he could understand as they were in essence similar to what he himself had done, in this city he was for all intents and purposes the invader as well as a monster given he had since his arrival in New York been feeding on the population.

From a tactical point of view, it made sense that they would have to be dealt with as soon as possible. Pragmatically killing the city's guardians while they were stone would be the best course of action for him to take, however he knew not where they were living and he did not have the forces to eliminate them yet nor would he do so himself as that would give away any advantage he had.

No, he would gather his strength, right now he was focused on at the very least learning where his intended was staying, a simple exercise to be sure as he could change into a variety of different forms, or even kill one of the officers and take the clothing still that last one would present more trouble than it was worth.

Landing quietly he watched as the mortals began the tedious process of leading the woman he planned to turn up the steps and inside while he simply shifted becoming a simple lizard and scurried inside.

Fortune again favored him, his small size enabled him to move through the nooks and crannies with ease as he picked up the conversations around him focusing on the one concerning Yuri Alexandrov's daughter who had immediately requested her lawyer.

A part of him disdained the whole hiding behind the legal system in order to thrive, yet the larger portion was focused on the woman who was even now being escorted to a room doubtless where the rest of the mortals would attempt to use the 'good cop, bad cop' scenario when another figure emerged, a man who spoke with an accent similar to Veronika's.

For a moment he relaxed listening then hissed to himself quietly, as the man claimed he had her best interests at heart, but it was not the words that earned the count's ire.

Dracula could tell the man was lying…

* * *

GS: Well I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, will try and put the main characters in it more as well. Dracula is someone I find interesting, urban and ruthless he makes both with that cordial demeanor in the book until his plans go awry. My version is obviously a mixture of the man and the myth as it were. Unlike the movie Bram Stoker's Dracula which didn't I feel do both the Romanian hero and the Count any justice I am endeavoring to do just that, Vlad Tepes while a ruthless man strove to protect his people a theme that's going to be played up in this series.

Veronika herself will be expanded on more in the next chapter, and Thomas will be back as well. Also, Spashiba is Russian for 'Thank You'.


End file.
